


five times jedward nearly got off together in the big brother house

by likecharity



Category: Big Brother RPF, Jedward
Genre: Bondage, Bubble Bath, Crossdressing, Face Slapping, Genderplay, Hair-pulling, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Sharing a Bed, Spanking, Twincest, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Writing on Skin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-08
Updated: 2011-09-08
Packaged: 2017-11-10 19:07:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/469671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likecharity/pseuds/likecharity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The thing is, they're trapped in a house with a whole bunch of other people and a whole bunch of cameras, and privacy basically doesn't exist.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	five times jedward nearly got off together in the big brother house

**Author's Note:**

> FML.

**one.**

The thing is, they're trapped in a house with a whole bunch of other people and a whole bunch of cameras, and privacy basically doesn't exist. Which they obviously knew beforehand, but they didn't really _think_ about exactly what it would mean. Like, not realistically, anyway. Because it was _Celebrity Big Brother_ , which was super cool and exciting, and that kind of took precedence.

It actually didn't occur to them until the night before they went in. They were in bed together, and they'd been fooling around for hours because they couldn't sleep from all the anticipation, and then John stopped suddenly and said "Hang on. We're not gonna be able to do this for like...ages." Edward whispered back, " _Obviously_ ," and John added "That sucks," and Edward agreed, and then they went back to what they were doing, and didn't really think about it again.

They were both pretty sure they could handle it, anyway. It's never really felt like a necessity, it's just something that they _do_ , something that they've done for a really long time, and it's just kind of a habit at this point. Sort of like brushing your teeth. Or like wanking, for normal people. They've never really had to go without it for any extended period of time.

They didn't even bother when they went on The X Factor, even though they had to share bedrooms with people back then and there were often cameras around. They just adapted to the different circumstances and learned to be a little more careful. After all, they've always had to be quiet and secretive about this. It's second nature; they've never slipped up.

Big Brother, however, is different. There's literally _nowhere_ in the house or garden that can't be seen by a camera, and they have to wear microphones all the time so they can't even _talk_ privately, and at first they're too caught up in all the excitement to care but before long it's starting to get really annoying. 

They actually only last until Day 2. By then, Edward is already going slightly crazy with frustration. Maybe it'd be okay if the two of them could complain about it to each other, but of course they can't. And he can see in John's eyes that he feels the exact same way, which somehow makes it even worse. They've gone longer than this, he's sure, but they've never made a conscious effort to do so, and with the stress of the house and the new situation, it'd be really nice to snuggle up together in bed and just mess around, lazily. It's a comfort thing, sometimes, when everything gets to be too much. Edward misses being able to nuzzle into John's shoulder while John reaches down to wrap his fingers around Edward's cock, misses the smell of John's skin and the way his breathing sounds up close. The way it hitches when Edward grips a little tighter, twists his wrist.

They're only on Day 2. He has no idea how they're going to survive.

So that's when he comes up with Operation Bubble Bath. This entails filling the bath with as many bubbles as they possibly can in the hopes of obscuring anything that might happen under the surface. This plan is, of course, not discussed at any point, and only named in Edward's head, but as soon as he suggests a bath John immediately picks up on his wavelength and empties out an entire bottle of washing up liquid without needing any prompting. And it kind of seems like it might work, because no one seems to bat an eye at the idea of the twins sharing a bath, and the layer of bubbles is so thick that they're sure nothing can be seen.

They've bathed together before, of course—they did it all the time when they were little and they just never really grew out of it. It's one of those things their parents frown upon, but any efforts they made to put a stop to it proved futile and the twins were eventually allowed to continue. _It saves time and water_ , they'd always say, and before long Mum and Dad stopped trying to argue. It's one of Edward's favourite things, he thinks, because it reminds him of being a kid, and the warmth of the water and John's body right there with him is just so lovely and comforting. Safe. Of course they have to wear their swim trunks on national television, but other than that it feels pretty much the same.

But when it comes to doing anything further, they chicken out, suddenly hyperaware of the cameras and the millions of eyes behind them. For a long time they just sort of sit there, hunched in the tub and staring at each other. And then John attempts to reposition himself, and accidentally brushes something that he seems to think is Edward's foot but _definitely isn't_. Edward has been half-hard since they got in the bath, and the brief contact of John's hand against his growing erection is just—well, basically they need to do something _right now_ or they're going to explode in a cloud of bubbles and sexual frustration. 

He tries to lie back and take a few deep breaths. John is looking at him sort of curiously, and then Edward feels something brush between his legs again. John's foot, this time. 

There's an idea. 

Edward tilts his hips experimentally, pushing into the arch of John's foot, and John smiles at him. Edward stretches out one of his own legs, trying to pretend that nothing is going on as the water splashes gently around them. He finds John's dick easily, feels the stiffness of it under the water, but as soon as he catches his brother's eye he immediately has to look away, gazing out the window, his breath caught in his throat. John kind of curls his foot and clumsily tries to stroke him, and Edward blurts out something about what Darryn's doing in the garden, and for a moment it seems like this might actually work and then—

"Oh, sorry babes," says Amy obliviously, breezing in and heading towards a mirror with a tube of mascara in her hand. "Didn't know you two was in here."

So far Edward thinks Amy is really cool, but right now he sort of wants to hit her.

 

**two.**

The idea of wrapping each other in clingfilm was genuinely just meant to be something kind of silly and fun. They were bored, and they wondered what it would be like, which is basically the reasoning behind ninety-nine per cent of the things they do. But Edward isn't prepared for the fact that being all bound up and helpless kind of _does_ something to him. He should've known, considering the mummy task wasn't so long ago and he knows he found _that_ more fun than he probably should have.

First of all, John's wrapping the clingfilm around him and smoothing it down, stroking Edward's chest and stomach and back, which is already almost too much for Edward to take, feeling John's hands on him after what feels like so long. And Edward can't really move, his arms pinned to his sides and held there by layers and layers of the stuff, and it goes right down to his knees, limiting the movement of his legs as well. As John wraps it around and around, Edward starts to get more and more nervous, sweaty in the heat of it and claustrophobic, but it's _good_. Exciting. An adrenaline rush, maybe.

He kinda freaks and complains a bit, but _obviously_ John is gonna push him over, or where would the fun be?—and then once Edward is lying there helplessly on the floor, staring up at John, he realises John gets it too. He's turned on seeing him like this, having this power over him. John pushes him around, rolls him over, and all Edward can do is comply. He stares up at him, silently daring him to do more. It feels like John could do anything to him right now, and he has to remind himself that's not true. 

There are so many things they can't do.

It's like this one time when Mum made them change their own bed sheets and Edward was messing around and not doing it properly, and he lay on John's bed and refused to move. John decided to just make the bed around him, and Edward ended up pinned to the mattress with the sheet fitted over him, only his head left free. It was supposed to be kind of a punishment for making John do all the work, but when John saw that Edward _still_ wasn't bothering to move, he got frustrated, leaping onto the bed and straddling Edward with his arms crossed. And Edward got _excited_ , because he was trapped, he could hardly move at all and here was John, sitting on him, looking down at him like he could do anything.

Edward said "John, kiss me," words coming out in a rush, and John did, all his irritation melting away. Edward squirmed with a strange sort of happiness. It was weird to kiss John without being able to touch him, but it was kind of nice too. He ended up sucking John off right there, bound by the sheet and held down by his brother's body, unable to use anything but his mouth. When John's cock slipped out from between his lips, he had to wait for John to put it back in again, and when John came it spilled out onto Edward's cheek and he couldn't wipe it away. It felt good. _Really_ good.

Edward squirms, feeling himself starting to get hard. Luckily he's lying on his front so nobody can see, but it _hurts_ , the pressure of so many layers of fabric and plastic and then the floor pressing against him as well. John is kind of kicking at him, and he twists helplessly, splayed out on the floor, his legs askew and in the air. He wonders if John remembers the time with the sheets.

Suddenly John bends over and starts hitting him, slapping at his back and his arse, the clingfilm amplifying the sound. Edward lets out a cry that sounds more like a moan, and John steps back abruptly. Their eyes meet for a second and it's clear that John is thinking _exactly_ what Edward is thinking. He immediately retreats, and Edward lies there motionless for a while, thinking of as many boring and/or gross things as he can until he finally goes soft.

It's only Day 11. Clearly, they're going to have to be more careful when coming up with random fun activities in the future.

 

**three.**

It's been nearly two weeks, and they've spent all morning giving each other temporary tattoos with Amy's eyeliner, which is another thing that usually wouldn't cause any kind of problems. Usually, they're able to touch each other's _arms_ without going into some kind of frenzy of arousal, but the withdrawal is doing strange things to them. They're sitting so close together and Edward's got his quiff in a stupid little ponytail that just makes John want to pull on it. Feeling Edward's thumbs pressing into the soft skin of his forearm, watching the pink tip of Edward's tongue stick out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrates on drawing—it's enough to drive John crazy.

He paints his own name on the underside of Edward's wrist, on the delicate thin skin there where he can see the faint veins underneath. It's kind of a hidden place, which feels good, like another secret only the two of them share. Briefly, he considers whether or not communicating like _this_ would work, writing things like _holy crap I need to fuck you_ up the length of Edward's arm—but yeah, no. Probably best not to.

They're called to the Diary Room after and John actually hesitates before sitting down in the chair, because the seat isn't really built for two people and he's not sure he can stand being pressed up against his brother right now. Edward seems less affected today, starting in at Big Brother about their tattoos and outfits, and John manages to relax a little, joining in, just keeping his hips angled a little bit away from Edward's. And then Edward says something about rebellion and mattresses and John kind of flips out internally, and then their eyes meet which is _definitely_ a mistake, because John knows that he may as well have _I WANT YOU SO BAD RIGHT NOW_ written across his forehead in eyeliner. Edward sees it clear as day.

Panicking slightly, John slaps Edward in the face. He's not entirely sure why he does this, except that he needs Edward to stop looking at him like that or else he'll have no choice but to grab him and kiss him right in front of Big Brother. And then before he's fully aware of what's happening, Edward is shoving him off the chair and dragging him around, throwing him down on the floor and _spanking_ him, and it's all right in front of the cameras and it's nowhere near good enough, but it's _something_. There's a temporary relief in the physicality of it.

John uses Edward's thigh to help lift himself off the floor and settle beside his brother on the chair again, and Edward won't stop touching him. Their fingers interlink almost automatically. John grips as tight as he can and Edward squirms and makes this _noise_ , somewhere between a squeak and a whimper, and John almost can't take it, trying desperately not to look at at him, convinced it's going to be completely obvious what they _really_ want to be doing—

"Is everything all right, Jedward?" If it were possible for Big Brother to sound bemused, it definitely would.

"Yeah," John says in a small voice.

"Yes," Edward adds, sounding somewhat more relaxed, despite the fact that John still has him in a death-grip, fingernails digging into his wrist.

"Everything's okay, Big Brother, we're fine," lies John, and he's forcing Edward's arm round, at an awkward angle, and it's like Edward realises what he's doing before _he_ does, turning it, exposing the little inked _JOHN_ on the underside of his wrist. John looks down at it, stares for a second, greedily, at his own name written on Edward's skin. Edward is his. Edward is showing him that, he realises, telling him it's okay. _I'm yours, see? We'll get through this._

John rambles for a moment longer about lack of energy and then Edward's writhing beside him again, saying "Take your hands off me," and oh god, John _really_ doesn't want to, but he recognises that tone in Edward's voice. It's that tone that says _you already made me come three times tonight, please can we sleep now?_ or _go a little slower, it hurts_ , and so he eases off a little.

Edward immediately take over, grabbing _John's_ hands and clutching at them, grinning at him mischievously. And John can't help but laugh, even as he's sort of groaning internally with the frustration, and then Edward slaps _him_ , like he's saying _ready for round 2?_ Which kind of gives John the perfect opportunity to grab at Edward's silly little ponytail like he wanted, dragging him around by it like Edward's his little dog on a leash or something. Edward kind of whines a little and bends himself over the chair almost instinctively and John's palms go sweaty at that, his mouth goes dry. He wants to fuck him so bad. 

Edward tries to stand up and doubles over, half-laughing and half-moaning, complaining about the pain in his scalp, and John can't help it, he folds himself over his brother and they fit together easy, Edward's arse pressed right up against John's crotch like that. They usually have sex face-to-face because they like to watch each other, but Edward likes the way it feels from behind and John thinks of that now, the few times he's had the view of Edward's sleek, pale back and been able to grab a hold of his hair. The way Edward would push back against him, like he was fucking himself on John's cock. 

Edward has gone totally still, and John clutches at his brother's bicep, mumbling something nonsensical, a half-apology. Edward gets him back by kicking him off the chair once he's managed to contain himself.

"Let's just get out of here," John says, from a crumpled ball on the floor, convinced that all of this is the Diary Room's fault.

 

**four.**

It's Day 16, and—possibly against their better judgement—they're letting Amy Childs vajazzle them. 

If she does a good job she might get a reward from Big Brother, so everyone lies back and surrenders themselves to her—her wax and her diamonds and her apparent professionalism. Edward agrees a little too readily and John doesn't know how to feel as he watches them, because Amy's touching him in places only _John_ gets to touch. John has a little mental freak-out every time it happens, like she's going to see something she shouldn't, or severely wound him, or _something_. So he hovers around anxiously, even when he becomes aware that he's bugging her. He watches as Amy smoothes the wax strips along Edward's pale skin and tears them off and Edward cries out and throws back his head, going pink in the cheeks.

"No one else's got as close to me, John, have they?" Edward asks, a little hazy from the pain, and maybe John's not thinking straight because it sounds like he's saying _you're the only other one who's touched me here, John_ , and John feels so _possessive_.

"I can't see your willy, don't worry," Amy assures Edward blithely, continuing with her work.

It's around this point that John actually starts to interfere. He can't help himself. Amy sticks the wax strip to Edward's skin, just along the crease at the inside of his thigh, and John leans over, smoothes it down like he's just trying to help. His other hand rests over Edward's, where Edward is clutching his crotch to shield himself from view. Amy brushes John's arm like she's batting him out of the way, and then Edward takes his hand, interlinks their fingers, gentle but firm as he moves John's hand aside.

None of them speak. Amy decides to pretend nothing happened and John forces himself to sit back, watching almost jealously until Edward is done. A little pattern of diamonds peeks out from the seam of his pants, glittering in the sunlight, and John is taken aback by how _good_ it looks, trying to stop himself from staring. He wants to peel the fabric out of the way to get a better look, but he knows that will look too weird. When they're both done, Edward has a similar reaction, and they take to standing in front of mirrors for the rest of the day in an attempt to make it look like they're only admiring themselves and not each other.

They share a bed that night—more a tower of mattresses, to be exact—and decide it's probably best if they sleep top-to-tail. The microphone that hangs down over the bed is within easy reach, now, and Edward messes with it half-heartedly but finds it can't be turned off. Even if they whisper as quietly as they possibly can, their voices will be picked up.

Around 2 in the morning, John wakes up to find that Edward's leg is between his own thighs, knee pressed gently to crotch. It seems innocent, like their bodies have just ended up tangled together, as they so often do when they sleep. But feeling the heat of Edward's skin right _there_ wakes John right up in an instant. "Ed'ard," he mumbles, peering at his brother in the dark. He sees Edward's eyes open, slowly, and then he gets a sleepy smile in response. John shifts, trying to draw Edward's attention to the problem, and Edward echoes the movement, his knee rubbing gently against John's quickly-stiffening cock.

" _Ed'ard_ ," John whispers more urgently, straining his neck to look down the bed and check that the duvet is covering them. It is. Edward has closed his eyes again, pretending to be asleep, and John bites his lip and does the same as Edward's knee continues to rock back and forth between his legs. John fumbles under the covers, hand finding Edward's hip and slipping lower. Maybe they're too tired, not thinking straight. Maybe sharing a bed was a bad idea. But they can't _help_ it—it's habit, it seems so easy.

Just then the door swings open, squeaking loudly, and John's eyes fly open. Lucien and Amy come toppling in, drunk and clinging onto one another, and Edward quickly brings his leg back just as John's hand snaps back up under his pillow. His breathing sounds so loud to his own ears, and he tries desperately not to move, dick aching for further contact. 

Lucien and Amy take a flying leap into the bed right next to them, and John watches through one half-open eye as the two of them snuggle close together under the covers. He can't tell for certain, but he's pretty sure they're kissing. Which is basically the most unfair thing in the world. He doesn't dare move to try and look at Edward, so he just grips an angry handful of pillow, shuts his eyes tight, and tries to get back to sleep, ignoring the soft sounds of giggling coming from the bed beside them.

 

**five.**

It's weird, because John doesn't even particularly _like_ girls, at least not more than anything else. He just likes Edward. But for some reason, seeing Edward all dressed up as one—he almost can't cope with it. And the state the two of them have been in lately, it just makes things even worse to see Edward sitting there in his shiny wig and his stuffed crop-top. He actually _acts_ more like a girl, and half the time it's not even like he's just doing it for laughs. It's like being dressed like that just changes his behaviour without him even realising, and for some reason John finds it unspeakably hot.

It takes him a little while to realise. At first he's just kind of curious and fascinated, and he can't stop looking at Edward ( _can't_ , like it takes so much effort to drag his eyes away). The others pick up on it, but Kerry just says it must be weird for him, seeing what he'd look like as a girl, and he goes along with that, says a flustered, _yeah, so weird!_ and then goes back to staring. But really, he's wondering what it would be like if Edward really _were_ a girl, if he had real tits instead of balled-up fabric shoved under his top, if he got wet between his legs and maybe John could fuck him like that, with a handful of that long brown hair in his fist and his lips mouthing at full breasts and his cock deep inside a hot, slick pussy.

 _God._ He's never wanted that before.

Big Brother asks them all to face each other and do their best girl/boy-band poses, and it's weird, but John has never felt so masculine. He and Edward have never really been bothered about typical boy stuff, and their Mum always goes on about how pretty they are. No one ever uses words like _rugged_ or _handsome_ when describing them. But right now, in his fingerless leather gloves and his sleeveless jacket, watching Edward act like such a _girl_ —he feels like he's a _man_ , and Edward isn't. And he wants Edward to feel like that too, wants to make him whimper and moan and clutch at John's muscles.

It doesn't help that Edward is clearly enjoying the whole thing way too much for his own good, always messing with his fake boobs and twirling strands of his wig around his fingers. Tossing back his hair and licking his lips like he's flirting with John. Later, he lets Amy put make-up on him, and he keeps wearing his wig and his crop-top for much longer than necessary. It makes John wonder. Maybe if Edward likes it so much, he'll try it out again when they get back home. Maybe John can convince him to hide the wig and keep it, and maybe they could get a hold of some more girly clothes. Fuck, it turns him on so much to think about it, Edward in a miniskirt and some frilly knickers that John could push out of the way in order to fuck him, and Edward's voice would be all high-pitched and desperate as he begged for it harder and faster.

John swallows and takes a deep breath and forces himself to look away from Edward. If he keeps thinking about this, he's gonna get hard, and it's not like there'll be anything he can _do_ about it.

Obviously, the two of them are in this for the long haul, hoping to be the winners, but right now he wishes they could just sabotage themselves and get out of here as soon as possible. He has _so many plans_ for when they finally get a camera-free bedroom to themselves. 

**

They've developed a way of talking about it without really talking about it, saying things that sound completely normal on the surface, things only _they_ understand the true meaning of. It's like when they were little and they made up a language all of their own. (They actually attempt to communicate in that, from what they remember, but they only manage a few scattered words that don't really make sense, because they made it up when they were six and they didn't know any dirty words. And anyway, then Big Brother tells them off, because apparently the House has a ban on secret languages.)

"There's only a few days left," John says, and Edward knows that the underlying meaning of the sentence is _we can manage a few more days, right?_

"Yeah." Edward stirs his cereal listlessly. "Yeah."

"And then we can go home," John says, and he's peering at Edward over his mug now, a look in his eyes that says _and do everything we've been wanting._

Edward can't help but smile at that. "Yeah."

"What's going on?" Amy asks, wandering through.

They can't _quite_ hear Bobby's response, but it sounds like he says, "I dunno, but they're plotting something. I can tell."

The twins' eyes meet, and Edward grins. John's eyes are practically sparkling. Bobby doesn't know how right he is.


End file.
